The Whisky Lullaby
by OnlyVampiresCanLoveForever
Summary: Edward just got back from World War II, to find that Bella has had an affair . . . or has she? He leaves her, and out of pain they both attempt suicide. Will they be rescued? They find that before they can save each other, they must save themselves first.


**If you want to get in the mood for this story, it's based on the song "Whisky Lullaby" by Brad Paisley and Allison Krauss.**

I fingered the pistol in my hands once again, my hands trembling from pain. Only one thing to do now.

An image of my entire life with . . . . _him _filled my mind and I had to mash my teeth together and use all my strength not to shriek right then and there. That wouldn't be good, I was in a dark alley beside, ironically, the exact jewelry store that I used to go to to buy all her gifts. The exact store that I went to on my way home to buy her the engagement ring I was going to use to ask her to be with me forever. We had plans, we'd talked about them before I'd left. We where going to get married, have children. We where going to grow old together . . . . I never believed the old saying 'Time changes all.' I believed that there where things in this world that where so strong that they could never change. Like our love. God has a sick way of proving me wrong.

At the end of the alley, a happy young couple passed, laughing. Like they where mocking me for my own depression. I wanted to go up to the young man and scream, "You think she loves you? Is that what she got you to believe? She lied! They never love you! Run, man, run! Before she can break your heart! Before she can take _everything _from you!" But I couldn't. The girl was probably nice, she probably would never leave him. I had to believe that. Not for the man, but for me. I had to believe that there where girls like that out there. Not that it mattered if there where, there was only one girl - one _woman_ - that could ever own my heart. _Her_. The thought of her would have brought me to my knee's, but I was already there.

I had murdered many men in World War II, and my conscience had given me hell for it. But I had never felt agony like this. It took me a long time to get this low, and the story isn't pretty.

Three years earlier . . .

I was thinking of her. I was always thinking of her, but this time was different. Because this time I was thinking of her because finally, after three years of waiting, I had just a few more hours left until I saw her again. She had promised me she would wait for me, and I believed her. Many soldiers told me that she was lying, that they could never wait that long for a man to come back. I told them that they where wrong, not my Bella. My Bella would wait for me for as long as she needed to. And, sure enough, every time she wrote me a letter, it was practically oozing with love. I had the soldiers who doubted her read it, and even they where surprised how loyal and trusting she was. The last two or three weeks, however, I looked all through the mail, and she had written me nothing. She probably had nothing to say, though it still worried me. She had never skipped a single week before

The van I was riding in chose this moment to go over a pot hole, jarring me from my thoughts. Nothing must be going on in our little town of Forks, and she just didn't want to waste paper telling me this, that was it. I spent the rest of the ride envisioning her face. I had been doing this every day since I left her, so I had it fairly clear in my mind. But, still, after three years, it had started to blur. I had forgotten to ask her to send me photo's every now and then.

Three hours later . . .

The bus finally rolled into town, and I realized that I had no idea where to find her. I hadn't written her a letter about it, I hadn't been writing her at all the past few weeks, I had nothing to tell about just like she. I hadn't told her I was coming home, I wanted it to be a surprise. So I instead directed the driver to the house of her best friend, Alice.

"Alice!" I called when I saw her out on the front porch, reading. She wasn't in casual clothing, like normal people. She insisted on looking her best in extravagant clothing wherever she went. I still loved her, all the same.

"Edward!" she cried with joy when she looked up and saw it was me. Her happiness soon faded, though, and turned into pure horror.

"Alice, what's wrong?" I was alarmed, usually nothing could bring down her happy mood.

"Nothing." she said, effectively hiding all traces of fear from her face. I wasn't worried anymore, if she could put it away that quickly, it couldn't be that big of a deal. Besides, I was too anxious to see Bella again.

"Where can I find Bella?" I didn't even bother with the 'Do you know' part. She was Alice, she always knew where Bella was. The look of horror crossed her face again, that was the exact question she was hoping I wouldn't ask. "Alice, what's wrong? Is she hurt?"

"No! No, no, no, no, no! She's perfectly fine, Edward, I assure you. She's at the house." She looked as if she wished I wouldn't press the situation any further. She was in for a disappointment.

"Then what's wrong?"

She took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. This wasn't good, I could tell. "She has a date, Edward." At first the words buzzed around in my head, they just wouldn't make sense. One by one, like a puzzle, they slowly snapped into place. When I finally got what she was trying to tell me, I didn't believe her, I couldn't.

"Your lying, don't play with me, Alice!"

"I'm not lying!" she snapped back. "If you want proof, just go over to the house. She and her date are spending the evening there."

"Fine." I growled. She did not have a date, she wouldn't do that to me. I climbed on to the waiting bus with force. The driver seemed to sense that I didn't want to talk about it, he asked me for directions and didn't say another word. I was going to prove Alice wrong.

Bella Point Of View . . .

Four weeks earlier . . .

I walked to the post office whistling happily, I was going to drop off another letter to my love. My happy mood was darkened a little by the knowledge that I wouldn't be getting a letter from Edward today. He had told me in his last letter that he would be out on the battle front for a week or two and he wouldn't be able to write.

I dropped the letter into the postage slot and went over to the front desk. I gave the man my name and after searching for a few moments he told me that I didn't have any mail. I went home whistling again. A few hours later, the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, I was surprised to find a solder in full uniform standing on my doorstep, this couldn't be good.

He handed me a letter, said, "I'm so sorry ma'am for your loss." saluted me, then got back in his car and left.

My entire body was shaking as I slowly closed the door. Whatever this was, it could not be good.

I opened the letter and began to read. It wasn't easy, I was still shaking. It read:

_Dear Mrs. Swan,_

_We are so sorry to inform you that your fiancé,_ _Mr. Cullen, has been killed in battle. He died heroically, using his own body to shield another. Unfortunately, by the time the battle was over, he had already passed and the one he gave up his own life for to recall his tale of bravery._

_Our deepest regards to you, your family, and Mr. Cullen's_ _family. He will always be remembered among the generals and soldiers as one of the finest men this camp-this country-has ever seen._

_When you are ready, we would appreciate you sending a letter informing us when and where you would like the body, and when and where we should send_ _his fellow soldiers to do a 21-gun salute. Best wishes._

_Deepest regards,_

_Camp 45; Military_

No. . . I could feel the pain rising up inside me, and I knew I couldn't suppress it for long. I also knew that it would never go away, so I might as well put it off as long as possible. I covered it with anger. What a joke. They where already asking me about funeral dates and where I want the body? "Best wishes."? What kind of sick people where living on this Earth? How much of a monster could you be? With a lurch of my stomach, I realized Edward would never read my letter, there would be no Edward to give it to. It would be thrown in the incinerator. My entire heart, used as fuel. Let it, let it die. Just like everything else. I remember walking down the hall, to look at our old bed, in our old bedroom. The exact bed where we had already shared so many beautiful memories, the bed where we said we would spend our honeymoon, the bed we would raise a family on. I just couldn't take seeing it there, it was too painful. The last thing I remember was the soft cotton feel of the comforter under my hand as I stuffed it in a closet, and my head spinning as I slipped into empty nothingness.

Edward Point Of View . . .

I slammed the door of the bus as I got off, not even bothering to thank the bus driver. I flung open the screen door, my stomps keeping time with the raps of the door hitting the house. I'm not sure how, but something in me just knew where she would be. Probably because we had spent so much time there. I flung open the door of our bedroom, and my entire world came crashing down at what I saw. Jacob Black, I local that I had never liked and because of this loathed, was getting ready to kiss my Bella. I wondered why that sounded odd coming out of my mouth. Then I realized, she wasn't my Bella anymore. This scene just proves it. She had her eyes mashes shut and her mouth wide open, she appeared to be waiting for him to move a little closer. And that's all it would have took, had they been just a little closer and I would have walked in on the actual kiss.

Her mouth still hung open, but now it was out of shock that I was there. Her face looked as white as the comforter that lay - oh, oh god, no. She had moved it, thrown it away probably. That was _our_ comforter. You know that one symbol that couples have? The one that says, as long as I have this, my heart will always belong to you? That was ours. I'd gotten it as a present for her the day we'd moved into this house, she'd loved it immediately. She'd kept it starchy white, even taking the time to fix every snag or imperfection, no matter how tiny. Alice had joked that she loved the comforter more than she loved me. But I knew that she didn't really love the _comforter_, but just took such gentle care of it because of the person who gave it to her. This was almost as big a blow as the kiss.

She was still frozen. We'd all spent a measurable amount of time like this, just staring between ourselves, not sure what to do. I was the first to break the silence. "Don't let me interrupt you."

"Edward!" she cried, and made a move twords me.

"What?" I yelled back as soon as she'd finished speaking. "How could you do this to me Bella? How? You promised me you'd love me forever. Forever came sooner than I thought, apparently." It was true. Forever had come far, far to soon. I turned around and slammed the bedroom in her petrified face. I stormed downstairs, I knew if I stopped to make sense of what I was doing, I'd go running back upstairs and tell her that everything would be alright, that I forgave her, that I still loved her, and I just couldn't do that. I did stop, though, when I got to the door and saw the small side table by it with pictures on it. All the pictures of me where gone, except one. It was turned down, and when I peeked to see which one it was, I recognized my favorite. It was taken in late July, a few weeks before I was recruited. It had just struck midnight, and we where in the middle of leaning in for a kiss when Alice had interrupted us with the flash of a camera, causing us to instead jerk our heads in her direction, hitting our noses together. Luckily, before we had been able to change position at all, Alice had captured the moment. That's one interruption that was worth getting interrupted for. I loved to look at it, loved to see such love that she looked at me with, captured forever in a photograph. It was just a sick reminder now.

Still holding the photo by it's dark wooden frame, I reached into my bag and pulled out a 3-inch stack of bills tied together with a rubber band and set it on the table. My payment from the army. I still loved her. I couldn't say it right now, but I did. I hoped that this would let her know.

By now, I could hear the light patter of her feet as she raced down th long staircase after me. I gripped the frame that was still in my hand, kissed Bella goodbye one more time, and threw it down on the floor as hard as I could, glass side facing down. The loud shattering noise as it hit the floor and broke into a million tiny pieces reminded me of something, my heart. The patter of footsteps stopped, and I used this slot of time to make my escape.

I flew out the door, threw my bag into my car, and gunned it out of there and down the road twords town as fast as I could. My last kiss to Bella was still strong on my lips. My only regret was that it wasn't with my Bella, it was with a cold, black-and-white imposter. Then again, that woman in my house wasn't my Bella either. She could live in my house, share the same memories as me, and even love me, which I highly doubted at this point. But she was _not_ my Bella, my Bella wouldn't do that to me. I cruised into town, mulling over everything that's happened. I pulled over and walked into the first bar I saw.

The bartender looked me over, eying my army clothes with appreciation. "What'll it be?" he grunted.

"Whisky, straight up." was my automatic answer. He gave me a tall one, and set the glass down directly in front of me. He seemed to feel like he owed me something because I was in the army, in fact, the whole bar was eying me with respect. I ignored them and focused on the glass of whisky that I was now holding. Something with burn, just what I needed. I took a slow sip that burned like acid, the first of many more to come.

Bella Point Of View . . .

I knelt down at the hallway, the first tears beginning to fall as I realized what picture he had chosen to smash. His favorite. My fingers trembled as I picked up the pieces of glass, and I accidentally cut myself. Blood oozed and bubbled out and ran down my ring finger -my wedding ring finger - in the crevice in-between my ring finger and my middle finger, and streaked down my palm. It was so quiet in the house that all I could hear was the ticking of the big grandfather clock and the thrumming patters of my blood hitting the floor. I liked the pain - loved it even - it gave me a reassurance that I was still alive, and it was good to concentrate on, it gave me a temporary relief from the raging pain inside me. Pain infinitely worse.

I heard footsteps behind me. A finger rested on my shoulder. "Bella?" a husky voice said softly, "Are you going to be alright?" I liked how he said _going to be alright_ instead of _alright_. It fit. Whenever someone asks you if you're alright, they're usually asking because it's obvious you're not and they already know. Why ask something you already know the answer to? It just makes more sense to ask something you don't know, as least then you have the surprise of the answer. I knew that I was rambling internally, and that minutes had passed and I still hadn't said anything yet. I knew I was being rude, but, in my eyes, I was doing him a favor. I was taking time to calm myself down before I did something rash. If he knew what was good for him he would keep his mouth shut and leave me alone. Apparently, he didn't know. "Bella?" he said again, like he was testing me to see if I was dangerous. Like a child would to his mother or a hiker would to an animal that was blocking their only way out, I wasn't dangerous like that. I was much, much worse.

"What?" I turned around and screamed in his face. "What do you want? Is there something else you want to ruin? Too bad, there is nothing else you can take from me, he is my whole world! There is nothing else I have!" I was hurting him, I could see that. Good.

"Bella, I -"

"Was just leaving!" I finished for him. I went around to the back of him and used my good hand to shove him out the door. I slammed it shut once he was outside. I leaned up against the door and dropped my head into my hands. Violent sobs wracked my body. I knew there was nothing that would make this pain go away . . . . . but there was something that might help. I ran as fast as my legs would carry my to the kitchen. I stepped all over the shards of glass, effectively slicing open my foot. I would probably need stitches, but I didn't care, I needed my relief.

I reached into the cabinet and found the bottle of Jack Daniels Whisky that my brother Emmett had left here after one of his frequent visits. It had been here for weeks and he still hadn't mentioned it, and even if he did, I would buy him another one. I had been saving it for when Edward came home, I thought we could celebrate with it. Well, Edward came home, but I wasn't celebrating anything. One for two isn't bad, in any case but this one.

I yanked the cork off with my teeth and starred at the contents inside. It was dark and smooth, like root beer. I lifted it to my mouth and let the whisky rest on my lips, but not go any further than that. It even burned my lips a little, creating a tingling sensation that was not entirely unpleasant. With one jerk of my body, my head fell back, my hair snapped away from my scalp before resting limply on my back, and the whisky rushed into my mouth. I took a gulp, not swallowing it, just holding it in my mouth. It burned like nothing I've ever felt before, physically. The pain of it paled only in comparison to the pain of losing Edward. His name burned me like the whisky. I lowered the bottle, but still didn't swallow. I sloshed it around in my mouth a little, making sure to spread the fire everywhere I could get it. I let it slither down my throat only when the whisky started to mix with my saliva and kill the burn. It felt like I was swallowing bleach all the way down. I looked down at the bottle in my right hand, blood smeared over it, staining the label. I lifted the bottle to my mouth again and repeated what I had just done. The sting was fantastic. He would never be coming home to me, never love me again after what happened. When he talked about his baby, he wouldn't be talking about me. When he and whoever he finds gets separated in a big city, like we did, when he asks people if they've seen the most beautiful girl in the world, he won't be asking about me. Even though I will always be his, he will never again be mine to claim. But at least now, with my newfound friend, I can pretend. This is my whisky lullaby, and I'm afraid it's the kind of song that never gets out of your head.

Three years later . . .

I'm at a bar. I can't tell you the name of the bar, because even I don't know. All I know is that if I don't pass out soon from all this booze, I'm superhuman. When I say 'booze' I don't mean one of those fruity, weak little drinks that all the rest of the broads in this joint are drinking. I'm shooting whisky, straight up, and I'm gulping it, baby! . . . . . God, I'm drunk. My head lolls back and gives me a good view of what's on my left. Here it is, the passing out part. I'm just about to go under when a flash of silver catches my attention. I worked to focus on the distraction. I realized that a sherif must be in the bar. There was a gun belt hanging on the coat rack, the item that caught my attention was a polished, shiny pistol.

I walked over - everyone else was too focused on the game of pool going on in the far corner and their drinks to notice - and picked up the entire gun belt. I waltzed right out of there with it in my hand. I was right, no one noticed.

Outside, I strapped the belt across my body and ducked into a near by alley. I sat down on the ground, wet from the dew that has just fallen. I'm not sure what time it is, around midnight, maybe. I take the belt off and pull out the pistol. I hold it steady, not at all afraid or nervous about what I'm about to do, I'm too far gone. Too drunk to even begin to contemplate the meaning of the horrific thing I'm about to do. Taking my own life, leaving this world forever, probably going to Hell because of it, it was all lost on me. All I knew was that it was a more lasting release from the pain, and that was enough for me.

I held the pistol at arm's length, and aimed it at my forehead. The wake-up call from the surprise of finding the pistol and realizing all the options that it held was starting to wear off, my vision was blurring just slightly. I felt two of my fingers squeeze the trigger, heard the _bang _as the bullet was shot out of the barrel, and fell to the cold, hard ground. I was getting foggy in my head, and I welcomed unconsciousness. Because, suddenly, I had an unbearable pain in my head, and a headache to top all headache's. I lifted my right arm, and lightly pressed my fingers to my head. Warm, wet liquid slowly soaked my fingertips, and I knew what it was just by the smell. I raised my hand to investigate and, sure enough, dark, rich blood covered the tips of my fingers. As a last thought, I noted that there was surprisingly little blood on my hand considering I just shot myself in the head. The hovering shadows that had been on the edge of my vision since I hit the ground finally took over, and I slipped into darkness. I died.

Edward Point Of View . . .

Five hours. That's how long. I have been sitting in this hell hole of an alley with it's dark, almost black brick and barbed wire fences for four hours. I still haven't done anything but finger this gun.

I sighed, and looked to the end of the short alley, at the barbed wire separating it from the rest of the world. Then back at me, at my shirt that had become slightly frayed at the bottom due to me trying to get over the huge wads of barbed wire alive, preferably with all of my limbs. If Bella where here she would laugh and say, _I can fix that, I know just the trick_, I miss her laugh . . .

I close my eyes and listen to my heart pounding. Do I really want to do this? Is her memory really that strong that I can never escape her, that I would live with her memory for the rest of my life, no matter what? Do I love her this much, to do such a rash thing because the thought of her with someone else is killing me slowly, so I might as well do it quickly? I knew the answer to all of these questions, _yes_.

I leaned my head back against the wall, _What am I to do?_ I couldn't live without her, that part wasn't open to discussion. Maybe, though, I could live _with_ her, accepting that she and I have gone our separate ways but we will always have special places in each others hearts. We where each others first love, we'll always remember each other, but that doesn't mean that we can't live on the same planet without suffering every second. Right? Even as I thought the words, I knew they where a lie. As if I could ever live without needing her! First love is like this: you fall in love for the first time, slowly drift apart, and when the whole thing finally ends you're upset, but you learn to deal with the fact that it's over. You always love the person, in a way, but you realize that's not what you want in a forever and move on to find it. That's how first love goes, usually. I'm, of course, the exception. _My_ first love just happened to be the one, Bella _was_ my forever, I don't want anyone else. What do yo do when your entire reason for existence doesn't want you? The only thing I could think of is what I'm doing now.

I sat up, stretching my legs out in front of me. I grabbed the pistol and put it at arms length, aiming at my head. _Here I go . . ._ No, I can't do it like this. One look at my posture revealed that it was stiff and formal, I looked like I was sitting in court awaiting the jury's verdict. It was a habit I had, something I did when I wasn't sure how I felt about things, like now. I couldn't die this way, not in this position. Not because I didn't like it, because _she _wouldn't like it. She had always been trying to break me of it when she was with me. She joked that it made me look like cardboard, and she didn't want people to think that she was so desperate she was making her boyfriends out of boxes. I had always admired her sense of humor. I relaxed my legs, letting them splay out in front of me, slouching a little. I still kept my arms taunt, though, with my hands on the ground and my face looking down, the gun pointed up at an angle. This was the only shot I had, and I needed to get it right. If I got too far too far off target I wouldn't die immediately, why make more pain than necessary? If I didn't make my head, . . . I've been sniffing too much cigarette smoke. My only regret was that I didn't think to leave a note explaining my last request. I had only one wish: Whoever she ends up with, if you don't take care of her and treat her the way she deserves to be treated, I'll haunt you till the day you die.

That's how I got in this situation, lonely, heartbroken, and about to end it all. I warned you it wasn't pretty. That's how my whisky lullaby goes, and I'm sorry to say that it just can't kill the pain anymore.

This is it, no going back. I'm ready. _Good-bye, Bella. I'll love you forever._

Bella Point Of View . . .

I woke up with grogginess clouding my vision. I knew I wasn't in Heaven or Hell, I was in the same dark alley I remembered seeing before I went under. How strange, I could have sworn I'd died. My head was still pounding, fiercely, I remembered that, too. I looked to my left slowly, there was a gun belt there, with a pistol not far from it. What was that doing there, and where did I get it? I hadn't been trying to . . . had I? Suddenly, all the memories from last night came rushing back. Oh, my God. I had been trying to commit suicide. Was I crazy or something? Wait, I shot myself in the head, shouldn't I have died? I must have, that pain in my head was so real . . . I lifted my hand to cradle my forehead, a damp, sticky substance covered my hand. By feeling along my forehead, I realized that what I thought was a bullet wound was actually just a deep gash. And what I thought was dying, must have just been the alcohol taking over. But where did I get the gash? I looked to my right, and saw a blood-stained cement block. I was lucky, I very well _could_ have died. I laid back down and tried to calm my breathing and stop shaking. I almost _died _last night . . . . At this point, a thought came to mind: If I was willing to commit suicide over Edward, and I was the one who hurt him, what must he be willing to do? With a sickening jolt, I sat up and came quickly to this conclusion. I was going to find Edward, tell him what really happened, and set things straight. I was going to get 'us' back. I was going to make everything alright, if it wasn't already too late . . . That thought stopped me cold. I wasn't worried about if he would take me back after he knew the truth. If I knew Edward - and I did - he would take me back in a heartbeat. I was worried about . . . what if he's already gone to far? What if he's . . . dead? I almost choked on the words. No, he couldn't be. I wouldn't be able to handle it.

I got up and ran, without knowing where I was going. My feet just moved and I let them go wherever they wanted to, their guess was as good as mine. They led me to the jewelry store that Edward used to buy all my presents at. So that was it, they didn't know where Edward was, they just wanted to take a trip down memory lane. Edward wouldn't be here, it would be too painful for him. Memory lane would have to wait, I had to find Edward before it was too late.

I was passing the store, going West, when a figure caught my eyes. In an alley on the right side of the store, a man was sitting down on the ground, pointing a pistol at his head. He had his head facing down and the pistol on the ground, pointing up at him from an angle, but I would know that figure anywhere.

"EDWARD!!!" I screamed as I clawed my way through masses of barbed wire. I was tearing my clothing to shreds and the barbed wire was pricking my skin, making mew cuts and snipping painfully at the one freshly put on my forehead. I didn't care. In that moment, all that mattered in the world was getting to him and ripping the gun out of his hands. "EDWARD!!!!" I shrieked again. People where starting to stare, coming out of buildings and houses and looking at the deranged girl trying to run straight through barbed wire. I didn't pay them any mind, yet I was still just as slow as ever trying to make it through. He sure knew how to pick a place to kill himself. He still didn't look at me, had he gone deaf? It was then I realized that he had the look on his face he has when he was concentrating really hard on something, he must have accidentally tuned me out in the process. There was only one tone I could think of that could break him from his trance before he was ready, my mad-as-hell tone. It was medium-high volume, and this alley might be just short enough. I mustered up all the anger I could, which wasn't hard. I was angry at him for a lot of things. Angry that he immediately assumed that I would have an affair and storm out before letting me explain. Angry that he never told me that he was coming home or wrote to me in those weeks, letting me think that he was dead, not even wanting to see if I wasn't writing because something was wrong. Angry that he was about to take his own life and not even think about the consequences. I was drunk, he, I could tell, was perfectly sober. "Edward." His head shot up, fear showing in his eyes, his knee-jerk reaction to the mad-as-hell voice. The exact same second that he registered that I was there, I broke through the last mound of barbed wire. I streaked across the alley, not tripping once. I reached him, and when my right foot stepped right beside him, my left foot swung around and kicked the gun out of his hands as hard as I could. I immediately knelt down beside him, grabbed his face in my hands, and kissed the top of his head, burring my face in his hair. "Don't you _dare_ ever do that to me again." I kissed the top of his head again. "Ever." It was then I realized that I didn't have the right to hold him, to kiss his head. I may have saved him, but that still didn't make him mine. I pulled back, reluctantly.

"Bella?" He seemed shocked, at what I don't know. "Your head . . ." He starred at the gash that had no doubt only gotten worse with a horrified expression, I would probably need stitches . . .

"I-I'm sorry, I'll go." I'm not sure why I said this. I put all this effort into finding him, thinking that when I did I would make him mine again, and I was jut going to leave? I began to pull away.

He grabbed my arm, "No!! Don't go!" He seemed really desperate to have me stay with him, probably because he was worried that if I left he would try to hurt himself again.

"Alright . . ." I sat down on the wet ground beside him. It was freezing cold, but I wasn't going to tell him that. Being the gentleman that he is, he would tell me that it was okay if I went away, to someplace warm, and I didn't want to leave him. I looked over at him, he was shaking slightly, but I don't think it was from the cold. I decided now would be the perfect time to tell him some things that had been on my mind. "You did me wrong, Edward, that day at the house." I kept my gaze fixed straight ahead, on the other end of the alley.

He looked at me unbelievingly. "_I _did _you_ wrong? The last time I checked, I wasn't the one who had an affair." He was getting angry, his voice rising slightly.

I looked at him to find that he was already starring at me in disbelief. "That's just it, I didn't have an affair, of any sort. I stayed faithful the entire time. You rushed out before I could explain."

"Fine, then." He smirked at me, not believing. "Tell me now, what is your explanation?"

"I wasn't having an affair with Jacob, _he _tried to kiss _me_." His eyes widened, obviously he hadn't explored this option before. Then he remembered something, and his eyes narrowed again.

"Your mouth was open and your eyes where closed." He was starring at me victoriously, like he had just caught me in a lie.

"My eyes where closed because I didn't want to see him try that, I didn't want to see anyone try to kiss me, no one but you." His expression did the same back-and-forth thing it did when I offered my explanation on Jacob trying to kiss me.

"You still had your mouth open."

"I was getting ready to tell him to stop when you walked in." This time his eyes stayed wide. Apparently, I had answered every question he had.

"So, you've never been with anyone but me?" I nodded. For the first time since he left for the army, five years ago, I saw him smile. Not just a little lifting of the cheeks, a full-blown, ear-to-ear smile. Then it faded, and the blackest fury spread across his face like wildfire. "Wait a minute, where did Jacob Black get the idea that it was okay to even _touch_ you? He knew you where mine! How dare he?" He was standing up by now. His eyes where wide, his jaw clenched, and his hands where balled up into fists with the knuckles white. He looked like he was ready to go find Jacob right now and murder him, and, knowing him, he probably was.

"Edward?" I said carefully and slowly, "I know why."

He looked down at me, "Why?"

"Edward, where you ever wounded in the army? Did you ever get hurt at all?"

He looked confused, and thought for a minute. "No, not at all. What does that have to do with why Jacob thought it was alright to kiss you?"

I stood up and looked at him. "I got a letter from the army one day, Edward. Do you know what it said?" He shook his head. "It said that you where dead. It told me you had died while using your body to protect another soldier, that you where gone for good."

His eyes widened in horror. "They _told you that through a letter_? And here I thought I was more respected than that. That a soldier would actually come to your doorstep and inform you, should something happen."

"No, the soldier that was sent just said 'Sorry for your loss, ma'am' and walked off. Didn't even tell me what loss he was sorry for." He looked mad now, I predicted that he would be sending a rather strongly worded letter to his military base sometime soon . . . .

"And your _sure_ that's what the letter said? There's no possibility that you read it wrong?" He was still staring at me with disbelief written all over his features and wide, unblinking eyes.

"Absolutely not, it was pretty straight forward. You can read it yourself if you want, I stuffed it in a drawer somewhere." I tried to calm him down with my eyes, to no avail.

"WHAT!?! How could this happen? A mistake over something as little as a letter saying I got a few stitches from the battle, sure, that I can understand. But that I full out _died_ . . . ? I don't get it!" He gripped his hair and looked down, probably hiding from me an expression that he didn't want me to see. Most likely a murderous expression.

"Edward." I reached out to him and gripped his arm. "It's alright. It happened, we can't change that." I soothed.

"No, but we can regret things we did because of it." He countered, he had me there. "Bella, I owe you an apology."

"Yes, you do." He looked up at me with startled eyes when the mad-as-hell voice made a reappearance. "You automatically assumed that I was cheating on you, how could you? I thought we had built more trust than that. Why didn't you trust me? More importantly, why _wouldn't_ you trust me? I have always been 100% faithful to you, I deserved more than that." His expression contorted in pain, and I almost backed down because I felt sorry for him. Almost, not quite.

"I know, Bella, I know, you did deserve better. . . . But, really, what was I supposed to think? Look at things from my perspective, Bella. I didn't hear from you for three weeks, when I come home and ask Alice where you where she says you have a date, and -"

"Wait!" I cut him off. "Did you just say that Alice told you I had a _date_?"

"She used that very term to describe it." Well, that's one butt that needs kicking. Alice had been mocking me, saying that my appointments with Jacob every week to help treat my asthma where dates, but I never thought that she would tell Edward that's what it was . . . . I should have told her they weren't, instead of just blushing.

"Go on." I said, my face turning white.

"And then I walk in to find you and Jacob, mouths open and eyes closed. What was I supposed to think? That he was checking your throat for something?" He had a point.

"Alright, I can see where you would think that . . . a little. But, still, you didn't even let me explain. Do you realize that if you had just let me explain it to you then , that we would be laying in bed together sleeping right now? And not in a dark alley where you almost committed suicide?"

"Yes, I realize that. And I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life, knowing I caused both of us much more pain than necessary. . . . By the way, how did you know that I would be doing something harmful?" I looked down. "Bella?"

"I knew you would probably be doing something like this," I began, choosing my words carefully and speaking slowly, "because I was just in that position my self. I was drunk, though . . ." I had my head down as I said the last part, I just couldn't look at him.

I heard him intake his breath in a gasp. "Oh, Bella . . . ." It seemed like he wanted to say something more, but just didn't know what that was. "Oh, Bella. How could you do such a thing? I know I have no right to talk, but _why_ would you do such a thing? You have so much to live for, Bella. I look at you and see so much potential. . . . . . . . I'm not sure if I should say this, but I'm going to anyway. I want so many things for you, Bella. You're _not_ going to die, Bella, not like this. You're going to fall in love again and get married, you're going to have children. You're going to grow old and get to watch you grandchildren, if you're lucky your great-grandchildren. . . . There will come a time, sweet Bella, that I will be nothing but a distant, fading memory. I know what we had was special, and I'll always cherish the time we spent together. But you will move on, someday you won't even think of me at all . . . . you'll forget me completely

. . . ." His voice had gotten sadder and sadder as he went on.

I looked up into his eyes. I guess that was his signal that he wanted me to leave . . . "I'll go now . . . I suppose. Goodbye, Edward." I was going to get up and kiss him, but then caught myself, he wouldn't want me doing that. I stood up in the rain from where we had been sitting. When had it started pouring? And how had I not noticed? I turned around and walked away.

"Goodbye, Bella." He called after me.

I stopped halfway to the wall. "Edward?" I turned and said.

"Yes?" he looked up from his hands in his lap and gazed at me cooly.

I tried to convey all the love and softness I could in my expression. "I'll never regret loving you."

His expression softened, too. "The same here, Bella, the same here." We continued starring for a few minutes, and I felt like this was our real goodbye, the one that actually meant something, that touched something deep inside me. I turned my back on him and made my way through the barbed wire mess, I actually got out faster now that I wasn't tearing through it at a speed that would make NASCAR racers proud. I only had about ten or twenty scratches, my white cotton dress, though, was ruined beyond repair. I stood on the edge of the street, thinking about what had just happened. Was I ready to let him go? No, I would forever regret this moment, but I couldn't get myself to turn back. There was just one more thing I had to tell him before I went. "Edward?" I called still looking out into the street. I focused on the magnificent pinks, yellows, purples, and blues that painted the rising sun. How it could be so cheery after what just conspired was lost on me. The streets where empty, the people had cleared after they realized nothing big or dramatic was going to happen. It made me angry, just slightly. Sure, they could come out and notice when drama was going on, but when Edward was about to _kill_ himself . . .

"Yes?" I herd him call behind me. I didn't want to look back, I just wanted to look forward, to the future. I turned around anyway. His face was shallow and sunken slightly, like he was drained from the events that had just passed, I knew I was.

"I still love you, more than anything. Always know that." With that, I turned and left him sitting there, and never looked back.

Three Weeks Later . . .

I sat at the kitchen table and thought about how crappy my life had turned out to be. A few years ago I was happy, in love, content, and about to start a family. Now, because of one big stupid Jacob Black, my life was in ruins. I still hated him with a passion for what he did. I made a mental checklist of things to do:

_1.) Fix the porch roof that the storm last Tuesday tore off._ Scratch that. _Get someone to fix the porch roof that the storm last Tuesday tore off._

_2.) Get my blue dress dry-cleaned._

_3.) Pick up my order of flowers from the garden store._

_4.) Find Edward . . ._ Wait, what?

I'd gotten lost in thought and accidentally put that on there. Whoops. I decided to write my list down, so I wouldn't forget. You can't accidentally write things down, can you? I was about to find out. I pulled out a piece of paper from my notebook I kept in the junk drawer and a pen I found in there as well. In bright blue ink I scribbled:

_1.) Get someone to fix the porch roof that the storm last Tuesday tore off._

_2.)Get my blue dress dry-cleaned._

_3.) Pick up my order of flowers from the florist._

_4.) Get a new dress for Emmett's wedding. _Everyone was surprised when he dropped that bomb. And, I had to admit, I was a little bitter. Why should he get to _marry _the love of his life when I had lost mine?

_5.) Accompany Rosalie to her dress fitting._

_6.) Help Alice pick out which flowers to suggest to Rosalie. (Try not to roll your eyes, it makes her mad.) _I still haven't dealt with Alice yet . . .

_7.) Yell at Alice for telling Edward that you had a date._

_8.) Try not to scream because your life sucks._

_9.) Try to live without Edward. (Lost cause.) _Whoops, guess you can accidentally write things down.

I slashed one line through it and tried to see if it was enough:

_9.) Try to live without Edward. (Lost cause.)_ No, it needs more.

I re-slashed it over and over, smothering it in ink. In the end, I had a big blue blob in the middle on the paper, with ridges all the way through it from where I pressed too hard. Great. The doorbell rang, and annoyingly cheerful tune. It stood in contrast with the soft patter of warm rain hitting the shingles on the house roof. That was one of the perks of June in Forks, the rain was always warm. The power was out, so I made my way to the door in the light of hundreds of candles I had set up around the house.

I opened the big, fading door, it used to be white. The paint that Edward had put on just a month before he left for the army was now dull and cracked, pealing away in thousands of spots, both big and little. I looked up from the floor to find Edward standing on my doorstep, soaking wet from the rain. All I could do was stand there with my mouth opened slightly, starring in disbelief. His chest was heaving, and I couldn't see a car. He must have _ran _here, all the way from town. . .

"That day, in the bedroom, I _let _you go. I made that mistake once, and I'm not going to do it again." Before I could respond, before I could even _think_, he grabbed a fistful of my wet hair and yanked my mouth to his, that was the only rough part of the kiss. His lips where smooth and soft and gentle as they moved, yet they had a certain force and strength that I was sure no one else in the world did just like Edward. The kiss lasted just a minute, though it felt like an eternity. "That, Bella, is how you_ deserve_ to be kissed."

I was breathless, and my first breath was used to say, "If I deserve it, then do it again." He used the grip he still had on my hair to pull our faces together at an angle, both of us leaning right. The kiss was rougher this time, with a sense of urgency that I understood all to well. He had not kissed me in _years_, and he was desperate to. His kisses where just like I remembered them, soft and sure, like he knew me inside and out, with their own special kind of roughness. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he carried me inside with his hands supporting me from the back of my knees. We ran into the door on the way inside, but neither of us cared, and he led me inside of the house. We stood in the living room for the longest time, doing nothing but basking in the wondrous feeling of kissing each other again, communicating our undying love in a special way. And, in that moment, I realized that that's what it is, undying.

After the kiss had ended, we stood there - well, he stood while I stayed clinging to his mid-section -for a few minutes, just running our hands through each other's hair, memorizing each other's faces, and panting. Finally, he spoke. "I never should have let you get away again. The first time I left you, the only thing that kept me from running here every day was the thought that you where happier this way. Now that I know that's not true, I just can't stay away any longer." He stopped talking for just a second to take a gulp of breath. "I'm sorry I let you go in the alley, I regret that deeply. I thought that would be what you wanted, a chance to find a new love, not me. But when you left, and said you still loved me, that put everything in perspective. I've spent an entire week knowing that you still loved me, and not knowing what to do about it. If there's only one thing that week has made me realize it's that . . ." He took a long pause to catch his breath.

"That you still love me?" I tried to finish for him.

"No," My face fell, he didn't love me? "I knew all along that I loved you, that part I understood. Even since that day in the house, where I thought you where having an affair, I never stopped loving you, not for one minute. The week made me realize that we will always love each other, nothing can change that. Not time or other people or even us. I don't want to live my life with anyone else, I can't. I love you, Bella, nothing will ever change that." Oh, dear God. Now I understood the meaning of his speech, why it was so long and why he poured his entire heart out to me. Now I knew what kind of speech it was. There, in our living room while we where sopping wet and the fireplace blazed and cracked and the rain pattered harder than ever before and candles flickered on our faces and thunder rolled in the background and lightning flashed in through the windows, he put me down, got down on one knee, and said "Will you marry me?" He seemed nervous, he didn't need to be.

"Yes!" I said in as loud a voice I could while I was breathless, it came out in a whisper. "Yes!" I said again, this one in a normal voice. I didn't have time to say it again, he had glued our mouths together again. This time the kiss was less urgent, and had a lot more joy behind it, no surprise there. When it ended it left us both smiling from ear to ear, laughing. My smile faded as I realized something, something that ha would have to see, now. It couldn't wait, it just couldn't. "Edward, come with me. I have to show you something upstairs." I grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him up the stairs, he just wouldn't move fast enough. I raced to the door of the bedroom and flung it open, hearing him inhale in a gasp at what he saw what was there. I looked up into his eyes and saw nothing but pure love there, right where I wanted it to be . . .

Edward Point Of View . . .

"Edward, come with me. I have to show you something upstairs." I didn't even have time to answer her, and she had the front of my shirt in her fist and was practically dragging me to the bedroom. She flung open the door, and I didn't even notice when it banged against the wall. There, on the bed, was the white comforter, the one that was our symbol. She had put it back on the bed, right like I remembered it. It was back in all it's snow white glory, to stay. I looked down at Bella, and saw my expression mirrored on her face. Love. I leaned down to kiss her again, a sweet peck.

"I love you." I said to her, my eyes closed.

"I love you, too." I herd her whisper. Oops, almost forgot. I reached down in my pocket and pulled out what I was looking for. I held it out to her and she gasped, her eyes wide.

"I had bought this," I told her, still holding the little black satin box in my palm, "on my way home from the army, to propose as soon as I got home. I was thinking, why not just give it to you now? It was my mothers ring, we had to sell it a few decades ago, during the Great Depression. I tracked it down over the past couple of years. It was fairly easy, my father had it made as a one-of-a-kind, there's nothing else like it in the world. I want you to have it, as an engagement ring." I opened the box for her to see inside, and looked at it with her.

It had a narrow and delicate gold band, with an oval shaped diamond and rows of slanted, glittering stones, sapphires. She and my mother have the same birth month. It had been in my family for years, and not one of the stones had even begun to fade.

"Edward, it's beautiful." She breathed. I took it out of it's silk nest and slid it on her left ring finger, a perfect fit. She smiled and kissed me, the official start of the rest of our lives.

Four hours later . . .

We lay sprawled out on the couch listening to the radio, Bella was half asleep on my chest, but I was wide awake. We had come downstairs right after I had put the ring on her, I had gotten a blanket and we laid down and waited for the news that the storm was almost over, we couldn't wait to call people with our wonderful news. It would be too dangerous to use a telephone now, lightning was still lashing about at an almost frightening pace.

Suddenly, a special news report came on the radio:

_This just in, authorities have found a gun belt with a pistol intact in an alley not far from The Whisky Solution bar in downtown Seattle. The gun belt was allegedly_ _stolen from an official sherif three weeks ago yesterday. The pistol was fired but it appears at an 110 degree angle. There was some blood smeared on a concrete block but it was so dried that no DNA could be obtained. There have been no missing persons reports since then, and police officials have deemed this case 'inadequate and unsolvable.' The gun and belt have been returned to their rightful owner._ _On lighter news, the missing William's boy has, after three days, been found . . ._

The spoke ladies' voice faded of into the distance as I turned the volume down. Bella was sleeping, and, besides, knowing when it will stop won't make it stop any faster. Who would steal a gun from an officer? People in this world just got crazier everyday.

I stroked Bella's brown curls, soft to the touch. She looked so peaceful when she slept. I leaned in and kissed her hair, breathed in her scent. Fresh strawberries, beautiful. In that second, I knew: There was a reason that I always thought of her, during my time in the army, on my way home, when I ran away from her, when I was holding the gun to my head, every second she was away from me since she said goodbye, and all the time in-between. Because I had been right, in that thought while I was in the alley. She was my forever, always has, always will be. I had also been right on another thing, nothing could keep us apart, not time or other people or even ourselves. Not ever before, not ever again. She was _my _Bella, and I was hers for eternity.

**Sorry it took me so long to get this monster up (over 10,959 words, woohoo!)! I've been working for 5 days, trying to get it perfect, I think I've pretty well got it . . . Anyway! I'm going to put together a little contest! The winner will get to decide what happens in the next chapter of My Private Morgue, a sneak peek when I start my next story, and a special surprise!!!**

**Here are the rules:**

1.) I will put at the bottom of this post three things that I put in my story I stole from other movies, you will send me a private message telling me your guesses, and I'll tell you if you're right or not.

2.) You can send me as many guesses as you want until someone gets it right.

3.) Do not tell anyone your guesses before the contest is over, if you do, you are automatically disqualified.

4.) I will give you one hint for each of them. Don't ask me for another one, it's not happening.

5.) I'm not even telling anyone at school about this, so there **will be no cheaters**.

6.) I'm announcing the winner based on what time they sent me the message, so get as many guesses in as you can.

7.) Just so everyone will get a chance to see it before the contest starts and it's too late for them to vote, it's not starting until Wensday, March 3, 2010 5:00 pm.

**Alright, here are the stolen parts:**

1.) "You're _not_ going to die, Bella, not like this. You're going to fall in love again and get married, you're going to have children. You're going to grow old and get to watch you grandchildren, if you're lucky your great-grandchildren." The real line was: "Don't you do that, don't you go off saying your goodbye's. Listen to me, *name*, you're not going to die here, not like this. You're going to get out of here, and get married, and your gonna make lots of babies, and your going to watch them grow. You're no going to die, *name*, not here, not like this." Hint: a big boat and a iceberg.

2.) "I made that mistake once, and I'm not going to do it again." The real line was: "I lost her once, I'm not going to lose her again." Hint: ocean related, think Disney.

3.) I wrapped my legs around his waist and he carried me inside with his hands supporting me from the back of my knees. We ran into the door on the way inside, but neither of us cared, and he led me inside of the house. We stood in the living room for the longest time, doing nothing but basking in the wondrous feeling of kissing each other again, communicating our undying love in a special way. (That one was actually just like in the movie.) Hint: Forgetful? Write things down, it may really come in handy . . .

**Kay! I tried to make the hints a little hard, to make it interesting. You also got the lines and scene, so don't be mad! Good luck to all.**


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